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Somethings _wrong_, I thought. Not the "oh, damn, I rolled over on a rock" kind of wrong, or the "a noise, theres he who made the noise, take him!" kind of wrong either. I can deal with those. This was something else. Something serious, since there was a lump of ice where my gut used to be, although my conscious brain hadnt even started figuring yet.
The smell. Yep. It was coming off Logan, in waves. Anticipation, fear and rage. And beneath it was something twisted and almost, but not quite, sexual. Crazy. Crazy man. Senses screamed that hed go berserk any second. Sane would be to get out of here, out of the X-Men mess, and...and what? Three Eyes? Not that much saner, by most peoples reckonings. And then there was Logan.
He stood a few feet away, breathing in even, measured breaths. Too measured for my liking. I knew that if he turned my way, Id see the animal looking out through his eyes, taunting me. Just out of my reach.
Wed gone hunting after lunch. No game, except for some rabbits. Squirrels. That sort of thing. So we found something else to do. Lit a fire after that, fell asleep. During the afternoon we had slowly circled back to the mansion. There was a meadow at the bottom of the hill, a few trees obscured the view beyond that, but we were practically sleeping in the backyard of the Mansion. Now the full moon rose over the trees, bright enough to dim out the stars.
I got up, kept my distance. He didnt turn, didnt acknowledge me in the slightest. He stared down at the meadow. Something large was moving around there, I too could see that. So what? I wasnt in the mood for hunting anyway. Then purple hair glimmered in the moonlight and another smell hit my nostrils. Blood. Exhaustion. Mixed with something I didnt recognise before olfactory receptors did and went numb, and at last my mind caught up with my body.
Betsy. Cant say Ive ever spent much time in her company. Dunno why, except that shes got money, breeding and looks. She might as well have "English Nobility" tattoed all over her forehead, and I have my own prejudices, thank you very much. Thats what I tell myself most of the time, when I wonder why I avoid her. Easier that way.
Because sometimes when you catch her looking at someone or even yourself, you dont see the considerate and delicate telepath. Its something else, so cold and so passionless that words cant describe it. Its as if there was an alien living behind those purple eyes, taking notes on humans and their behaviour. The discipline of the Hand is like that. Cold. It suits her better than it would most of us. And although its not hers by choice, its hers nonetheless.
"Oh shit!" I exclaimed, leaping forward.
Logans hand caught me mid-leap, pulled me back by sheer strength since the grip was _very_ badly applied. Arrogant little ass-hole, thinks he can tell me what to do...And then I realised that even if I could recognise the smell of neurotoxins, _he_ had had a first-hand experience. Lady Mariko Yashida. Daimyo and First of the Yashida Clan.
"Warren got her with his flechettes. I seen it a couple of times before. Shes gonna be okay", he said, his voice gravelly, but there was no trace of the animal in his eyes. Anguish, yes, but he wasnt about to go crazy on me.
Her body language was all wrong. She moved drunkenly, sluggishly and her left foot was dragging. It seemed as if she was heading for the trees, but she couldnt keep going that far. We watched her sink to her knees, then fall onto her side as cramping stomach muscles were unable to support her weight. There was a strangled sound that must have been her trying to scream through spasming vocal cords.
"Logan, you sure about this?"
He didnt answer, and I realised that he was far away. He was in the sanctuary of an ancient Japanese fortress, holding Lady Mariko Yashida in his arms, as she begged him to end her suffering.
"I couldnt do it", he said to no-one in particular.
"Couldnt do what?"
"Kill her. Miko. She was hurtin so bad she almost couldnt speak, but she kept beggin me. An I kept sayin no. Til...and then I fucked it up. Clean and quick, right? Three holes in your heart, and youre gone, right?"
A laugh that might have been a sob. Or the other way round.
"With her, I ran through the lung. It collapsed, with that awful sound, and she started chokin on the blood. I tried to end it quick, tried to get to something vital, but she wouldnt die. My claws cuttin through her flesh...She looked at me, ya know. All the time. Like she couldnt believe what I was doin, what was happenin to her. And I stabbed her again and again, gettin more and more desperate...and then I noticed that she wasnt breathin anymore. Dead, and shed been that way awhile, and I had butchered her corpse. I really fucked it up, huh?"
He drew a shaking breath, then looked at me, straight at me. Like he was back here and now.
"Probably died o the toxin anyway", he said. "There was plenty of time."
In the meadow, Betsy had stopped twitching. She lay on her side, breathing deeply, the way one does to wash the pain away. The smell of neurotoxin was almost gone, and instead there was a salt tang from her tears in the air. I had never seen her cry. I wondered if the alien could cry.
"A hard way to go", I said, not taking my eyes from Betsy.
She got to her feet, swayed for a moment, steadied herself with a visible effort and started to pick her way through the meadow. It was uneven ground and she went down a couple of times, but when she stepped out on the lawn in front of the house, some of her usual grace had returned. She didnt look back.
"The hardest", he said.==
Were not friends, Betsy and I. We have the wrong things in common to ever be friends. But shes never been anything but courteous to me; staying out of my business, letting matters slide, never demanding answers I couldnt or wouldnt give. What I had seen...it was wrong that I had seen it. It was wrong that it had happened at all.
I found her in the small rec room, where the morning light filtered in through Venetian blinds. She was playing the grand piano, the keys so effectively muted that it was impossible to recognise the piece. The cover said Beethoven.
She inclined her head to indicate she had heard. The inaudible music continued to flow under her hands.
"Bets, I got this friend. Names JoJo. She lives downstairs from Logan and me, turns tricks. They get rough, she yells and we help her out. No problem there. The problem is the guy she calls her boyfriend."
I stared at her back, willing her to turn around, but she didnt.
"He hurts her", I said gently. "Hurts her real bad. Ive seen it, and Im scared for her."
She turned then, and when she looked at me, I saw there were shutters and blinds in her eyes. Something had lived inside those eyes once, but it was a long time ago.
"I got a friend, too, Kai", she said. "She always speaks in riddles. I never understand."==
"I...coulda told...you", Logan panted.
My legs were firmly scissored around his waist. I put some more pressure on the armbar, waiting for him to either tap out or explode into action.
"She thinks... he cant help it", he said, wrenching out of the lock with a loud pop.
I let go of his waist, rolled out of reach, got to my feet, and before he got the shoulder joint under control again, I dove for his legs. Some minutes of unclean holds and throws followed, until we broke away from each other and stood face to face again.
"Yeah, right."
Yeah, _fucking_ right. One of these nights, Betsy wouldnt be going back to the Mansion, because she would be dead, all thanks to Warren, who couldnt help it.
"She thinks shes fast enough to avoid serious damage," he went on.
Id seen Warren extend himself. Only once, and on tape, but it was enough. Id heard his avian screech and seen his twisted face, as he fired a cloud of flechettes at a hundred miles an hour, sharp and heavy enough to go right through a phone book. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. If you stood next to him, when that happened, you would be shish kabob, fast or not.
"I didnt know she was that stupid", I said, and I was very angry.
He lunged for me. I darted in under his guard, and out again, since follow-up was impossible, and we continued to circle each other.
"Thats what they say about Miko", he said. "Stupid. Cut herself with the poisoned blade. How dumb can you get? Pretty lady like that trying to play with the big boys, course she gonna get hurt."
He came in low, following up with a round-kick, which sent us both to the floor. His upper body strength was slightly greater than mine, but my flexibility compensated for that, and we wrestled until I made a mistake, and his arm locked around my neck.
"She kept her promise, Kai," he told me quietly. "Maybe I didnt figure exactly what it was she had promised me, but _she_ knew. And if I had stepped between her and what she saw as her honourable duty, shed have shucked me and stuck to the promise anyway."
I sucked in a big breath, elbowed him in the chin, and rolled. I ended up on my stomach, instead of my back, and he was still on top.
"She looks kinda timid in the pics, I know. Sittin in the garden, huggin Akiko, all that warmth and light stuff. But if ya ever seen her come your way, the Honour Sword in hand, yad know why _she_ was daimyo and First, and why Silver Samurai wasnt."
I tapped out. He let me up. I walked over to the bench, picked up my towel and my water bottle.
"I dont like stupidity", I said.==
Sometimes, I dream of phones ringing. Im in an operators room, and Im lifting receivers right and left, telling people to hold, because theres one call I have to take, someone I have to talk to, but I cant find the line hes on, and all of a sudden all the lines are vacant. Theres no need to answer anymore.
Sensei is just one phone call from being alive. But he chose not to make that phone call. They said he lifted the receiver and put it back, before he left the restaurant. Then he stepped into the car and the rest of it is history. Sometimes, when the roads are slippery and the sight is bad, I think of that. Of him.
I stood by the window and saw heavy rain clouds gather in the sky, and I thought of worn wheels and wipers. Logan had backed off, completely backed off after what happened in the gym, and we had made up, the only way we knew how. Words hurt too much and explanations only make it worse, but the scent and the body cannot lie. People like us need to make up quick before one or the other goes out and gets killed.
Logan understood. Of that I had no doubt. When people like us take a trip down Memory Lane, it takes some time getting back. You could lose yourself on the way. I feared that was exactly what I was doing. I wanted to get on with my life. To put Senseis picture on the nightstand for everyone to see. I wanted to be able to tell them that he was my teacher, the closest thing I had to a father and that he was dead. But then theyd ask how he died, and Id scream at them that the stupid fucking asshole, the bastard son of a bitch got into the car dead drunk and deserved to die. And that meant that Id betray him forever. You say it and it becomes true.
The truth is that he taught me everything. He is in every move I make. Sometimes, when I make a noise, shuffling my feet or walking into something, I can still feel him rapping me lightly on the offending joint, telling me in his quiet voice to lift, to lower, to turn out. He never had to raise that voice. He knew how to speak to me through a whole room of cries and thumps as bodies landed heavily on the tatami. How could he be dead? How could someone like that be dead?
He was not a handsome man, too worn, too thin, with a worried face. Except when he moved and you saw movements flowing like water, effortlessly, unhurriedly. When he moved, he had all the time in the world to do it. And one rainy evening, time caught up with him at last.
No. No, that wasnt how it was. Time had nothing to do with it, unless you mean the milliseconds right before he swerved off the road and hit the tree at seventy miles an hour. Way above the speed limit and dead drunk. The stupid fucker would have walked out of the restaurant with his usual precision and grace, probably gotten the key into the lock at the first try and congratulated himself on how he wasnt a wino at all, before he got out on the road and the rain began. Thats truth, too.
A tile creaked under Logans bare feet as he approached from behind. It was a courtesy he paid me, so I would know that he wasnt planning on sneaking up on me.
"Im so pissed at him, Logan", I told him. "I wanna cherish his memory, but how can I, when I get hoppin mad every time I think of him? Every time it _rains_, fgodssakes!
His arm came around me, hugging me tightly to his chest.
"Hell, Kai," he said thickly, "Im mad at her, too. She didnt have to do that. She...I....It was always the Clan, you know? The Name. Even those precious moments when we were together, Id catch her lookin right through me cause she was thinkin about Clan business. Then shed send me away, cause of some honourable reason or another, an Id board the plane knowin that what she presented to me as her gift of love was really just what was left after the Clan had taken its due. An Id still cherish that gift, cause it was all I had to keep me warm at night."
I hadnt known that. I thought uneasily about Three Eyes and Darius. The operations I had set up last month were running smoothly, but Id need to look in on them in a few weeks. Zach would forward anything that seemed urgent and Darius, well, Darius had his own ways of letting me know when he wanted me. Some of the things I did in my life could not include Logan. But nothing I had given to him had been leftovers. At least we had that
"Im sorry", I told him.
He looked away, not ready for compassion yet. He had come a long way since refusing to leave her grave, shedding layer after layer of armour, but his candor was armour in itself. He could talk about her now. No one else could.
"She did what she had to do an she did it the only way she knew how, darlin. When I aint mad at her, Im kinda proud of her. Whatever she did, it was her, yknow?"
He was allowed to say he was mad at her. I wasnt allowed to agree with him. Better to stay on my own ground, if I wanted to give something back.
"Maybe it was that way for him, too", I said softly. "Maybe that last stupid stunt was what he was really like."
"Does it matter?"
Fair question. I thought about that.
"It drives me bugfuck crazy that I dont know", I answered at last. "I worshipped him for years, but I cant say I knew him. He did good things for me. Got me back on my feet. Then, theres this whole other side of the man that I never saw while he was alive. The drinking, I knew about, sort of. There was probably more. Maybe thats why I ran like hell after he was dead, so I wouldnt have to know."
"Do ya want to go back to the dojo? Meet some of the others? Maybe they remember who he was."
Or they had always known who and what he was, while I was too busy putting one foot in front of the other to look up and see where I was going and what I was following. The thought hurt too much to hold onto and he saw that in my face.
Someone else might have persisted, but he did not. He knew that I had given as much as I could. It had to be enough, because it was all there was.
"Someday, then," he said, and it wasnt a question.==
Ive lived in many places, communally in a lot of those places, but not in one where there was a pleasant alternative when the plumbing failed. Forget semi-private quarters and a bathroom for each couple, we had to get in line in the basement, where there were exactly two showers, and stand there in our towels. Not to mention what everyones goddamn cheap _scents_ did to my nose. Rogue was the worst, of course, waltzing out the door in a cloud of what she called magnolia bud perfume, singing "I will always love you" or some other crap. You figure what _that_ did to enhanced senses. I told Logan Id let him go first, if hed rinse that flowery shit down the drain. He went in, closed the door and turned off the shower. Turned off the shower?
"Wanna keep what little ya got, Worthington?"
Uh-oh. I should have known that Logan would go after Warren first chance he got. I sincerely hoped there would be no gutting.
"What are you doing? Bring soap if you want it!"
"I saw Bets out back last night. Takin a stroll, she was. Ya wouldnt know anything about that, Worthington, now, would ya?"
A mutter that sounded vaguely like "go to hell".
"Ya didnt answer my question, flyboy. Ill tell ya, I got lots o respect for her. I see her takin a stroll like that again, Im gonna have some issues with the guy who sent her out."
Something metallic crept into Logans voice as he continued.
"An if she goes that way, Im gonna break every hollow bone in your body and strip every flechette off your wings, fore we have a double funeral. No open casket for _you_, Worthington. Now, take your goddamn soap and get outta my face."
The door was flung open and Warren tried to squeeze past me, soap bar in hand. No way Id let him do that. I grabbed the towel around his hips and pulled him real close. He smelled of fear. Good. For a moment I was tempted to see for myself exactly how little he had got, but decided to be subtle instead.
"What he said", I told him. "But worse."
Then I let him go.==
We werent to have water anywhere above the ground floor for the next two days, and the supply of hot water was limited. There was plenty of water outside, though, blowing in your face no matter which way you were heading. The air pressure kept dropping and Ororo, who was as much affected by the weather as it by her, retired to her room. Betsy wasnt down for breakfast, but neither were any of the other telepaths, and people in general seemed to have headaches or blocked sinuses. I felt chilly and cranky myself, with a tiny back ache, which was the symbiont complaining of the cold.
No good being around people when I feel like that. Viper-tongue gets going and before I know it, Ive hurt someone. The more I care about them, the more savage I get. So I laced up my boots, got into the Gore-Tex outfit and told them I was going for a walk. There were a few raised eye-brows and a few mutters about lay-abouts and skipping out of the assignment list, but I pretended not to hear and made a special effort not to slam the door.
I hadnt taken ten steps before I saw Betsy sitting by the empty pool, legs dangling over the edge. She stared down at the pool as if she was expecting it to fill up any time soon. She had these big black sunglasses on, which made her face oddly buglike. The dress clung to her body and her hair was dripping wet. She wore no coat. I fled around a corner before she could see me.
Shit. I had worked with people like that. People who got up on the roof and simply stepped off the edge, no fuss, no drama. There was this one guy who pulled the pin on a hand-grenade and stood waiting for three long seconds, with no expression at all on his face, until it went off. There were plenty of others, who just stopped ducking.
It _wasnt_ my business. She had told me off yesterday. She didnt _want_ my help, right? I would be a fool to meddle. I didnt know her. Hell, I didnt even _like_ her! She personified creepiness in designer clothes. That little scene by the pool was right out of Stephen King. Stay clear of her, Kai.
No. It might be sensible to look away, like the rest of the X-Men did. It would probably be better to let Logan handle it. They had a lot of history together, in fact, she was his spare memory bank, after Madripoor. But I couldnt let it go. I just had to....turn that corner again and sit down beside her.
"How you doing, Bets?"
Clearly, she wasnt fine. She sounded husky, as if she was getting a cold, or had been crying. I detected the smell of metabolized migraine medication wafting off her skin, and to my growing rage, I also felt a faint whiff of neurotoxin. Hed been at her again.
"Those glasses better not be covering a bruise, Bets," I said.
"Headache", she said patiently as if talking to a kid. "Light hurts."
"Let me see."
She sighed, but did not resist when I lifted off her glasses, as gently as I could. There were no bruises, but near the corner of her left eye was a tiny cut. A fresh one. Made this morning by the look of it. I hurled the glasses into the pool. They hit the concrete with a satisfying crack.
"How long?" I shouted into her face. "How long are you going to protect him? What does it take to wake you up? Do you even know what the toxin shit does to your nervous system?"
"Hes nothing but a dickhead, a vindictive, bullying, _violent_ dickhead, goddamnit! A miserable shit-filled excuse for a human being! And when this unmitigated pig-fuck of a man goes for someone else, Bets? Loses his fucking abusive temper at breakfast over his cool toast and his crappy loser life? How do you feel about that?"
"How are the knees, Kai?"
Her voice was cold enough to cut me off and for a moment I just stared at her, more shocked than hurt, until I found my anger again. Damn her. Damn her for throwing that in my face. Victor and I fought. I lost. Thats all.
"Victor is a murderer. A predator on a killing spree. I know it, you know it. And still you wont give up on him."
Victor. It was the first time I had heard her refer to him as Victor.
"I know what he is", I said quietly, trying not to shake. "I know what he might have been, too."
He might have been like Logan if he had broken through certain parts of his conditioning. He might have been like me, if he had met and tried to knife Sensei, the way I did.
"Conditioning does different things to different people", she said. "You understand the rage, because youve been there. You understand how the caged beast feels, because youve been one. But there isnt enough left of Warren to make a beast."
Id seen a fox limp away on three legs from a trap. Id seen an eagle waste away in a cage. Of the two, I had more sympathy for the fox, but I could see her point. People could get twisted either way.
"Ive been where he is", she went on,"free-falling in outer space. Nothing makes sense there. You dont know whats up and whats down, or even if youre dreaming or awake, and theres no way you can find out."
"I dont know what the hell youre talking about", I said.
It wasnt entirely true, but I wanted to get off the subject. Her description of Warren in deep space nine made me queasy. It reminded me of something I knew Id made very great efforts to forget.
"Oh, Kai,", she said with a short, bitter sound that might have been a laugh. "It would have been so much easier to walk away, wouldnt it? Easier to sit observer and watch someone go to pieces in front of you. To pull the trigger the moment he makes a move. But when you try to bring someone back, all the way back, you have to get involved. You have to care and once you care, youre screwed."
I didnt want to go there, dammit. He got me good, fucked with everything I am. Messed me up, body and mind, and the mean little bitch knew it. She was reading me like a book and I was all but gift-wrapping myself to her. Well, no more of that.
"Victor had to break my knees first. My elbows. The bones were coming through the skin.
But Warren gets it for free. Tell me. Why?"
She didnt even flinch. But there was a trace of sadness in her voice, when she spoke again.
"Im no romantic. I wont say that hes my soulmate or the love of my life. I will say that I am happy in his arms. In this life, where every day can be your last, that means something, too. So when I got a chance at that happiness, I didnt pass."
Mortality and time. It sure made us do strange things.
"Maybe I should have", she said. "Maybe I should have known that it was too much for me to handle, because it is. Im losing him, Kai."
The bleakness in her eyes was worse than tears.
"Im going to fail my next physical. Neurotransmitter level test. Ive only made it so far thanks to some receptors the toxin cant touch. Gift from Otherworld genes. Trouble is, whatever Matsuo did isnt jacked into that part of my nervous system. When I make the switch, I slow down and get hit."
She touched the small cut tentatively. The smell of neurotoxin was fading now.
"This whole year has been touch and go. Reason with him or knock him out or run like hell. Switch and switch back. And its all been for nothing. Once I fail the physical, Ive failed him. Theyll lock him down in detention."
"Like they did Victor?"
I let my disbelief show, but there was the finality of truth in her answer.
"Thats how it works around here, Kai. Didnt you know?"
I guess I had known. Agents lost control sometimes. Therapy was the first option. The second was a telepath rummaging through their heads and deleting whatever seemed abnormal. A wipe job, mostly. Third option was detention, but you had to kill someone to get there. No one that Ive ever worked with had gone beyond option one or two. Victor had. And so, this would always be about Victor to me. There would never be any answer to the questions about right or wrong. Nothing that made sense or seemed fair.
"Ill never even know if I helped or fucked him up worse", she continued tonelessly. "I hope Ive helped. The psych charts say so and no one else has gotten hurt, right?"
"No one but you, Bets", I told her gently, putting my hand on hers. Her skin was cold.
"So I did a good job?" she whispered, mere ghost of a voice and for a moment I thought she might cry, but she held it in.
"Helluva good job", I said with absolute conviction.
And then she _was_ crying and I was reaching out to her, me, awkward Kai, who doesnt know how to do what, and she leaned her head against my shoulder. The smell of used Imitrex and neurotoxin assaulted my nose and her elbow was at an uncomfortable angle against my ribs, but I pulled her closer and somehow the awkwardness faded and we held on to each other with equal fierceness.
"You too, Kai", she whispered into my ear. "You did a good job, too."==
The first thing Sensei did, after he had disarmed me and put me neatly on the ground, was to offer me the knife back. If my nerveless fingers had been able to hold it, I would have taken it and made another try. But I didnt, so he took me home and fed me soup. The moment he turned his back, I went for him. Thats how stupid I was. He kicked my ass across the room, then handed me another bowl. I sat there, panting and holding bruised ribs, amazed at the absolutely fucking insanity of this man. He held out a packet of crackers and told me he wouldnt hurt me. He also said that whoever I was, he wasnt my enemy. Naturally, I didnt believe him.
For the next three months we played out different variations on this theme. Id go for him and hed whack me. As I came to, hed be there with hot cloths or ice in a towel, and soup, and hed feed me and tend me, while I thrashed and cursed him to hell and back. One morning, I tried his bedroom door and found it unlocked. He was snoring, inside. I stood there, torn between rage that he thought me so little threat, and admiration for his cool nerve. As sunrays began to creep over the wooden floor towards my feet, I put the knife down. Because, finally, I believed.
My codes to Victors cell were still current. The chair he had been shackled to was still in place. He had been curled up in the south-west corner, when sleeping. The observation booth hung empty from the ceiling. I was the one who had logged most hours in it, seconded by Tabitha Smith. The wall had been reinforced, but everything else looked the same as when he escaped it. Well, minus the blood. I hadnt been there at the time, but I had seen the vids. Lots of blood, spattering the walls and ceiling, and pooling on the floor.
This room was the end of the road. Once you got yourself down here, the only way out was through the wall and someone elses blood. There was no sunlight down here. Nothing to believe in. Nothing, except myself and my word.
"Victor, you bastard", I whispered fiercely. "Im not giving up, dyou hear me? Im sure as hell not turning my back when youre around, but Im not giving up on you. You can break every fucking bone in my body, but you cant break me. Whoever Victor Creed is, Im not his enemy."==
I was on my way to the kitchen when I saw Betsy come out from Warrens room. She carried a tooth-brush in a plastic bag and a faded pink terry robe over her arm. Instinctively, I backed up a few steps, to get out of her line of sight, and ended up hiding in a little alcove. Shit. Intensely private moment for her, and here I was _again_, like a goddamn stalker. She leaned back against the heavy oak door, her face tired and lined.
Logan had been on guard duty, outer perimeter. He must have run all the way back, but then, maybe he had known what was up. His coveralls were muddy to midthigh and he smelled strongly of sweat and pond slime.
"Logan", she said with a wan smile, taking in his appearance.
"You look like hell, darlin."
"Look whos talking."
He took her arm and led her towards the stairs. Her room was on the third floor, same as ours, but she hadnt used it much lately. I flattened myself as much as possible when they passed my hiding place. From the slight widening of Logans nostrils, I could tell that he wasnt fooled and Betsy threw her coldest and most unnerving glance over her shoulder in passing. Damn. They stopped at the staircase. Damn again. I had no chance of sneaking past them unnoticed.
"You okay, Bets?"
"Ill live."
"Ah. What bout Warren?"
"Hell live, too. That he was the one to break off the relationship spoke in his favour."
Her voice sounded oddly mechanical.
"So did you, darlin."
She shook her head.
"Subject continues to exhibit signs of moderate to severe depression associated with situational adjustment disorder," she recited slowly,"as expressed by inability to experience pleasure, sexual and otherwise, sense of hopelessness, inability to achieve or maintain sleep, reduced appetite, lack of control over mutant power, and a predominantly flattened affect marked by periods of uncontrollable crying."
Polished nails tapped against the wooden railing. I knew she was aware of me. More, she wanted me to hear what she was saying
"Pharmacological intervention is recommended as subject does not respond favorably to enhanced psychodynamic, insight oriented, therapeutic approach", she continued. "Trust issues remain a constant over-riding factor, but given the environment in which subject must survive, these issues are viewed primarily as adaptive in nature, and only mildly problematic. Further recommendations include augmented bi-weekly sessions to work on development of legitimate social support system, and reaffirmation of mentor/role model. Inducing the subject to shift to a more internal loci of control, will most likely resolve depressive symptoms."
I shuddered, and I was certain Logan did, too. That was the _defense_? A short silence followed while two former mercs racked their washed brains to come up with something constructive to say about psis and augmented psychology.
"Um," Logan managed, at last. "Convince em, did it?"
While not exactly witty, the remark was a fairly inoffensive one. I exhaled. Betsy echoed my statement with a sigh of her own.
"You know the drill as well as I do, " she said wearily."There will be a six-month evaluation period, before any final decision is made."
"Who gets to vote on this?"
"The original X-Men, the Professor, the resident psychiatrist in charge of Warrens case and myself. I dont know if therell be others. I could do without the political aspects, this time."
Her hand went to her collarbone, where the scar began. Victor hadnt stayed around for his evaluation. Logan swallowed.
"I shoulda been there," he said.
"Doing what?" Anger flashed in her eyes. "Ripping my guts out took him less than ten seconds. What do you think you could have done?"
His hands flexed as the claws came close to surfacing, then sank back to rest against the radial bones.
"Killed him."
She snorted.
"Well, anybody could have done that. But you know what? His psychiatric evaluation wasnt finished, so we didnt."
"And look at how well that turned out."
My breath caught, suddenly. My vision tunnelled as Victors claws sliced through my stomach, all the way to the spine. Blood welled up in my throat, viscous and sticky. I was gonna die, I was gonna...and then Betsys shields slammed up, full-force, and cut me out of her mind.
I reeled back, hit the wall and almost bounced off it. Abdominal muscles cramped in phantom pain and I bent over, trying to breathe again. Fuck. My knees felt like water. If I tried to walk, Id fall on my face.
Olfactory senses recovered first. The sweet, stifling blood smell receded. Sight came next, hearing after that. I heard Logan gulp for air, just as I did. Betsy was already trying to regulate her breathing. When the rest of my nervous system had realised I wasnt being gutted, I risked a glance at them. Logan looked glassy-eyed, but okay. He leaned heavily against the railing, as if he had been flung there. Betsy stood beside him, swaying slightly, hands to temples. Her face was completely blank.
While I watched her, bloodless lips drew back to expose more teeth than any human had ever been gifted with. For a moment, human nature fought alien in her eyes and won, but only just. Then it passed and she looked the same as always, a shade paler, maybe.
"Creed had a chance with us", she said tightly. "He was the one who blew it, not me. Dont you dare blame me for it, I paid for my mistakes."
I wouldnt argue with that. Betsy had paid for more mistakes than her own. So had I. In a way, I had paid for her mistakes, too. The next person stepping between Victor and his prey would pay for mine.
"What we did may have been stupid," she said, "but it wasnt wrong."
She picked up the robe she had dropped in the melee and stuffed the tooth-brush into one pocket.
"Bets..." Logan moved closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Dya really believe that?"
It seemed an honest question. A question he had not asked me, not in all the time since I fought Victor and lost. Maybe he was ready to ask now. Maybe he was even ready for the answer. Betsy, perceptive in every sense, straightened, adding a half-inch or so to her already impressive height. Purple eyes nailed him to the spot and held him there.
"I do," she said. "And as long as Warren gets the same chance as Creed, I should be satisfied."==
When I got back to our room, the first thing I noticed was the frame lying on my desk. It was enamelled blue, bright shining blue and it was just the right size for a certain photograph. I pulled out the drawer to make sure and there he was, a grainy version of Sensei squinting at the camera, at me.
"Itd protect th picture better", Logans voice said behind me.
He was leaning against the doorway, trying to act casual.
"I guess", I said, while my heart raced and my hands trembled.
The frame was to protect the picture. I could mount it and put it back in the drawer. I almost did. Almost. The frame gleamed in the sunlight, the blue enamel so bright it seemed luminous. It really looked good. He did, too, grainy as he was. Hell with it. I put it in the window. Right next to the picture of Mariko Yashida.


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There are always things that I like more and things that I like less when moving to a new place. Here are a few.
Well, for one, I had to leave my roses behind. Hopefully they will appreciate and care for them as much as I did. Also, there is a rose garden in this town if I ever have a yearning to see roses. : )
I just moved to the next town over. It's peaceful with lots of trees and a better place for me to take pictures.
I'm closer to great shops now. Well, that might not be such a good thing. ; )
My home is even smaller than the last one, but I don't mind. I'm all about simplicity as I get older. I used to have grey countertops, which were a bit too dark for me. Now, everything is white, which is a clean and fresh look.
I've always loved blue in the home, and since I now have white countertops, I thought blue accents would be pretty for Fall and Winter. I found this teapot at Home Goods and just had to get it.
I thought that I would not hear the sound of the train any more when I moved, but my first night here when I was lying in bed, I heard that wonderful sound of the train whistle blowing. I had no idea it was that close to us. The train runs through both towns, and when I hear it, it's like music to my ears.
I have lived in small homes, medium sized homes, a big home with a large pool, and I've always made each place a comfortable and safe haven for my family.
I didn't have internet access for a few days and really missed you. Just a few days makes a difference in this caring and sharing world of blog land.

subset: commoncrawl


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Holiday Baking Prep
I do a lot of baking around the holidays, for a few reasons:
1. I don't like to participate in the consumer culture surrounding Christmas.
2. I like to give people gifts they can use up and enjoy.
3. I like cooking, eating, and sharing tasty baked goods.
I do give Christmas presents to all of my family and also several close friends, and I need to plan ahead to get everything accomplished without driving myself insane. Here's my current "do ahead" list to prepare for my holiday baking frenzy:
1. Make homemade pumpkin puree from our giant garden pumpkin to use in pies.
2. Make homemade candied lemon and orange peels. The ones I can find in the stores are heavily preserved, which I don't like.
3. Start checking prices on butter during my regular grocery shopping trips, and stock up when the brands I like get below $2.50 per pound. These all go straight into the freezer.
4. Toast and skin hazelnuts to use in biscotti. These will get stored in the freezer.
5. Check all my spices and staples, and stock up as needed so I can avoid the stores during big holiday rushes.
6. Start thinking about how to package my baked goods this year. I tend to stick within my kraft paper/twine/homemade tags œuvre, but some type of more airtight wrapping is required to keep things fresh. I'm thinking about ordering a big roll of food-grade cellophane this year.
7. Do a few test cases – a pumpkin pie to test how the homemade puree cooks up, mini versions of my two standard biscotti recipes, maybe a new sugar cookie recipe (I seem to try a new one every year, but I just can't find one that I really like).
I'm sure more things will be added to that list, but I'll start working on these things a bit at a time. Hopefully, by the time the big Christmas gift baking session rolls around, I'll be totally prepared!
I'd love to hear your thoughts! Please leave a comment or subscribe to the feed and get future articles delivered to your feed reader.
4 Comments
I bet your kitchen smells so good this time of year. I might borrow this list so that I can get ready for the holidays too. I want to give baked goods this year so most of the things you mentioned are right on time. I've never had candied lemon or orange peels though. Willing to sell me some?
Kim, I have two enormous rolls of the food-grade cellophane wrap, so you're welcome to get one of them from me. They're left over from when Dad packaged all his hunting results himself. Now, he has someone else do all that, and flash-freeze his meat. So help yourself!
Love ya! Great-grandma Alma would be proud — she was always making springerle this early, for the holidays.


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As long as I could remember, I spent every day at Librairie Osbourne, rue Saint-Jacques, situated behind the Sorbonne, under the watchful eye of Madame Bouchard until I could read, and after that I did not need watching, for I was always with a book. My uncle had opened his bookshop after he returned from England to sell English and Dutch books to a public that was beginning to look beyond its shores for its reading. Histories and natural sciences sold well, but it was Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe and Moll Flanders, Manley's The New Atalantis, Congreve's The Way of the World and John Gay's The Beggar's Opera that made him money. The building had been an old bourgeois house, and as his business grew he expanded the shop from the former parlour into the sitting room, then into the kitchen and upstairs into the bedrooms, renovating room by room and installing tall bookshelves made of darkly stained oak. By some accident of the original site, every room was at a different level, so one clambered up or stomped down two or three steps to gain the next room. In the center of each room, if space permitted, he placed one or two tables: these were always covered by stacks of books, with more books piled up beneath. I made a home for myself under these tables, in little spaces between the book stacks where I could crawl out of sight, a parallel, hidden library of my own. We were infested by book beetles and silverfish, and I made it my job to squash with a tin spoon as many of these as I could find. Besides books, my uncle also sold pamphlets and notices, maps and almanacs, stationery, ink and sealing wax, and traded in curiosities and small antiques. In the rear of the shop, he had converted a stable to a printing house and bindery, where the compositor, pressmen, beaters and binders worked long days producing new editions. By the time I was eight, it had grown into a fairly prosperous enterprise employing fifty men and women, plus five factors who travelled outside Paris.
We lived on the fourth floor of this industrious building, in five rooms that my uncle had converted to a modest suite following the death of his young wife, after his own bachelor tastes, reached by separate entrance and a long flight of stairs. Uncle Adraste was an astute and meticulous business man, and was very careful in calculating his charges to his customers, so he was often up very early with his ledgers and accompts. After breakfast he would meet with authors or suppliers in a small office to the rear of the bookshop or in a nearby coffeehouse, and then return to look over the coffins of type laid up by the compositor. My uncle believed in universal education, but for me a liberal one not taught by Jesuits or Dominican nuns. Accordingly I spent most of the day in the bookshop reading the Musick of Pythagoras, the Astronomy of Ptolemy, the Arithmetick of Nichomachus, the Geometry of Euclid, the Divinity of Plato, the Logick of Aristotle, and the Mechanicks of Archimedes, first in French, then in English and finally in Latin. For the rest nothing was forbidden and I roamed widely in my reading as I grew high.
We had our trade clients: authors and playwrights like M. Biancolelli and M. Thomassin, whose work my uncle issued every few years; the occasional poet, and the scholars at the Sorbonne with their ponderous and convoluted ideas on the orgins of music or the history of the German Nations. They brought manuscripts and paper for the presses, their debts and their doughty wives demanding payment, their jealousies and suspicions of plaigiarism, which my uncle would smooth over with coffee and chocolate, and a thousand little compliments. We had our book buyers, the regulars and the curious, the dwellers who came in the morning and had to be swept out at night, amateur scholars with hobby-horses to ride, women with chores they wished to avoid, idle clergy and insolvent merchants. From my hidden vantage, I kept my eyes on known book thieves, like the Marquess of Tofino, whose voluminous skirts were lined with hidden pockets, or the Lieutenant Villiers who cut pages from books with a pocketknife. But in general I paid the customer as much attention as I did the clouds in the sky: they drifted above me busy with matters of their own.
For I was occupied that year with my own thoughts of the brilliant stage, of my new friend Marie-Thérèse, and with my father's playing cards, that I kept in the same mouse hole where I stashed favorite books and found baubles, that dark corner in the angle behind two cabinets. I studied his cards for months, for each picture was a window on a world as fascinating as the Comedie Italienne.


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Porsche is on the charge towards an electric future in the Australian market. Chief executive Oliver Blume says it has already begun planning its potential charging infrastructure in Australia as it prepares to launch its first all-electric vehicle, the Mission E sedan, next year.
The sedan is likely to be followed by a high-riding wagon — shown in concept form at the recent Geneva show — and a coupe and convertible could follow.
Until it flicks the switch on full-time EVs, the brand is relying on plug-in hybrid versions of the new Panamera to spread the word. At the top of the range there's a circa-$500,000 turbo V8 hybrid, but the twin-turbo V6 is likely to be the most popular.
It claims an all-electric range of 50km and can travel at up to 140km/h with no emissions from the tailpipe. Official consumption is just 2.5L/100km. In hybrid mode, with the electric motor and 2.9-litre bi-turbo petrol V6 working in tandem, it puts out 340kW of power and a potent 700Nm of torque, available from rest.
Porsche says it clocks 4.6 seconds for the 0-100km/h dash.
The claims are impressive but they come at a cost. Our test vehicle had a recommended retail price of $242,600, which ballooned to $264,120 with options that included a set of wheels costing almost $10,000. That's more than $300,000 on the road and $24,000 more than the standard V6 turbo.
Numbers aside, the new Panamera is a big step up on the predecessor, particularly aesthetically.
The last model looked awkward from the rear, a bloated, hunchback cousin of the 911. The new one is a more cohesive design, although it still doesn't have the sleek lines of a Cayman or 911.
Inside, there's been a purge on buttons and switches. They've been replaced by a combination of touchscreen commands and a toggle switch to navigate the various infotainment menus. The 12-inch centre screen delivers outstanding clarity but the glass and piano black surfaces are easily smudged. It's definitely not for the OCD-inclined.
In front of the driver, a digital widescreen mimics the old-school analog dials and can be configured to display the satnav and a host of information about the various electric-only, hybrid and sports modes.
Rear passengers are better looked after than before with more legroom (headroom is still tight) and their own controls for media, aircon and the separate rear sunroof.
On the road
The Panamera hybrid has a real Jekyll and Hyde quality to it. One minute you're gliding effortlessly and silently in the traffic, with the tacho reading zero revs, then you flick it into sports mode and the turbo V6 roars to life and loudly clears its throat on each gear change.
The all-electric performance is smart enough for commuting but there's no neck-snapping surge off the line. If you floor the throttle the petrol engine immediately kicks in to provide added grunt.
The range figures appear reasonably accurate. At one stage we travelled 25km in a mix of freeway and urban traffic and used just 18km of range.
Another trip in the rain with the wipers going used a little more than the initial range but overall the claim of 50km without recharging seems achievable.
If you run out of range, you can choose to charge the battery using the petrol engine as a generator, although fuel consumption climbs in this mode. We saw as high as 11L/100km on a mix of country roads and freeway.
The option is aimed more at cities that charge congestion tax for petrol cars. It allows the driver to build up the electric range on the freeway before hitting the city, then travelling emissions-free.
If you've been saving the planet during the week and feel like exploiting the true potential of the Panamera, switch to sport plus and it begins to feel like a real Porsche. The eight-speed transmission is intuitive, selecting the right gear for slingshotting you out of the corner, the steering is surgically precise and the grip is fierce.
On a tight winding road you will feel the weight and size of the Panamera, though. It weighs well over two tonnes — and 300kg more than the base V6 — so it's more of a grand tourer than a sports car.
The brakes also have a wooden feel under light application, although the big green calipers pull you up in a hurry if you press on.
Three and a half stars
The Panamera hybrid is a clever solution to a more environmentally aware future for a sports car maker like Porsche. During the week, you can drive like Miss Daisy and save the legs of the petrol engine for what it's built for — going fast. As with all cutting-edge technology, you'll pay for the privilege of being an early adopter.
PRICE From $269,000 drive away (expensive)
WARRANTY/SERVICE 3 years/unltd kms, $2590 over three years (pricey)
ENGINE 2.9-litre twin-turbo V6/100kW electric motor, 340kW/700Nm (plenty)
SAFETY Not tested. 10 airbags, auto emergency braking, adaptive cruise control, surround view camera,
THIRST 2.5L/100km (impressive but depends on use)
SPARE Inflation kit. (not good)
BOOT 405 litres (good)
Plug-Socket Beauty Pageant for Electric Vehicles 2:21
Forget your average plug socket. EV car makers are piling high design into their charging points. Dan Neil looks at the stylish competition for your garage wall space.


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Tag Archives: graduate studies
Annual awards recognize research excellence
Each year, the FGS provides awards of $1,000 to outstanding Master's and Doctoral graduate students in a research-based program from each of Brock's Faculties. The 2017 recipients of the Jack M. Miller (…) Continue readingPost Categorie(s): Current Grad Students, Grad Student Success, Research Excellence
Tag(s): excellence award, graduate students, graduate studies, research, Research excellence
Class of 2017 — share your Brock experience
The University has put out a Call for Videos to Brock students who will graduate at Spring Convocation. You have until May 19 to submit a 30- to 60-second video in which (…) Continue readingPost Categorie(s): Brock Community, Current Grad Students
Tag(s): excellence, graduate studies, graduation, student success, video
5 Steps to a Successful Graduate School Application
Applying to graduate school can seem like an overwhelming task to students unfamiliar with the process. Between selecting the "right" potential mentor, the "right" references, and preparing an initial contact and/or portfolio, (…) Continue readingPost Categorie(s): Future Grad Students
Tag(s): advice, getting into grad school, graduate school application, graduate studies, research
Mapping the New Knowledges Mentorship and Leadership Awards
Has your thesis supervisor been a great mentor to you and other graduate students? Has your graduate student experience been enriched by the leadership of faculty members, program staff and other graduate (…) Continue readingPost Categorie(s): Brock Community, Current Grad Students
Tag(s): awards, graduate student, graduate studies, leadership, mentor, MNK, research
Get your abstracts in for Three Minute Thesis (3MT)
Get your abstracts in – Brock's 2017 Three Minute Thesis (3MT) Challenge is still accepting proposals! Three minutes. One slide. No props. These are the fundamentals of Brock University's 3MT (three minute (…) Continue readingPost Categorie(s): Current Grad Students, Professional Development, Research Excellence
Tag(s): 3MT, grad life, graduate students, graduate studies, research, Three Minute Thesis
Student Spotlight – Kerrie Pickering
The Faculty of Graduate Studies at Brock University is shining a spotlight on one of our very own graduate students, Kerrie Pickering. An alumnus of Brock University and PhD candidate, Kerrie has (…) Continue readingPost Categorie(s): Current Grad Students, Grad Student Success
Tag(s): brock university, doctoral studies, environment, excellence, graduate program, graduate student, graduate studies, phd, research, sustainability, university


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September 2017
Wild Things, Wild Places
Paperback Release
Now Available
October 11 – November 5, 2017
World Premiere of Fireflies
Jane stars as Eleanor Bannister.
Matthew Barber's newest work shows connections can be found in the unlikeliest of places and in the unlikeliest of ways.
Long Wharf Theatre | New Haven, CT
Learn More & Buy Tickets
November 26, 2017
Guest Interview
Person, Place, Thing with Randy Cohen
December 6, 2017 — 6:00 pm
Jane Alexander for Arts in America
New York Public Library for the Performing Arts
Dorothy and Lewis B. Pullman Center
40 Lincoln Center Plaza
New York, New York
December 20, 2017 — 2:00 – 4:00 pm
Jane Discusses Wild Things, Wild Places
Walt Whitman Center
246 Old Walt Whitman Road
Huntington Station, New York


text:
8am - 8:45am
Introduction to Day (Reuben - Room 202)
Math Practices (John)
Session Overview (Pitch Each Session Here - 2-3 min per session)
9:15am - 10:25am
GeoGebra (Matt - Room 202)
Kahoot / Socrative (Melinda - Room 204)
Padlet, Drawing, and gMath (John - Room 206)
10:30am- 11:35am
11:35am - 12:35pm
Lunch on your own
12:35pm - 1:00pm
Debrief Morning
WeVideo Demo (Reuben)
1:00pm - 3:00pm
Work time
(Optional Sessions)
1:00pm - 1:30pm Chromebook Basics (Reuben - Room 204)
1:30pm - 2:30pm Google Classroom (Matt - Room 204)
Day 2
Program Overview / Logistics (Reuben)
Classroom Management / gScholar
Managing Chromebooks
Using your GUHSD account
Digital Citizenship
Responsible Use Policy (GUHSD) Digital Portfolio User Agreement (WHHS Global Studies)
Responsible Use Policy (GUHSD)
Digital Portfolio User Agreement (WHHS Global Studies)
Teacher Hub
Teacher Websites in Google Sites
Twitter / MTBOS Overview (John) MTBoS Directory
So I want to teach a new lesson about something, I go to ...
8:55am - 10:05am
EdPuzzle (Matt - Room 202)
Desmos (John - Room 206)
Google Forms (Melinda - Room 204)
10:15am- 11:25pm
Desmos (John - Room 206)
11:30pm - 12:30pm
Chrome Extensions (Reuben)
Screencasting in the Math Classroom (Matt)
Geometry (Matt - Room 202)
Algebra - (Melinda - Room 204)
Algebra II - (John - Room 206)
1:45pm - 2:45pm Screencasting in the Math Classroom (Matt)
2:45pm - 3:00pm
From Principles to Action- this book is only for those who want to know HOW to implement the math common core curriculum. John Berray would be interested in anyone who wants to chat about this book.
Please complete the Evaluation.
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Inspired by the works of Vermeer, and Rembrandt displayed at the Netherland's famous Rijksmuseum, Brunzyeel has designed a series of pencil sets that inspire artists to do their best work. These graphite, and colored pencil sets contain colors and grades that were carefully chosen to evoke the work of the Dutch Masters.
Much like the Rijksmuseum's vision of linking individuals with art and history, Brunyzeel Dutch Masters Pencil Sets link artists to some of the greatest artworks of all time.
This set includes 12 Brunyzeel Graphite Pencils, one each of 2H, 1H, HB, 1B, 2B, 3B, 4B, 5B, 6B, 7B, 8B, and 9B.


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I received a message from dell today saying that my laptop will be delivered tomorrow.
and so happened I will be having my Molecular biology test in the morning and they will be delivering it in the morning…
I have no choice but to postpone the delivery to Monday…
guess 2 extra days isn't that hard to wait huh?
meanwhile, I am looking forward to the music bash tomorrow!!!
and also my plans on Sunday~ *winks to those who know*
will update about it when it's done~ hehe~


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Bella Heathcote Cast as Leila in 'Fifty Shades Darker'
Bella Heathcote has landed a role in the upcoming movie Fifty Shades Darker!
The 28-year-old Aussie actress will be playing Leila, a former lover of Christian Grey (Jamie Dornan), according to Deadline.
Another actress who will be playing a former lover of Christian in the upcoming movie is Kim Basinger, who recently landed the role of Elena Lincoln.
Bella can be seen in this weekend's movie Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and she was the Just Jared Spotlight cover star in January. Go check out our full photo shoot and interview with her!


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Flagship Store
Flagship Store
Thisispaper Shop transforms into Biosphe.re
Read more
Small Print Runs: Libraryman
Interview, Paris
Visual Arts
Irma Kubisty
Marion Berrin
Photo books published by
have frequented the feed of Thisispaper for long enough. It's high time that light is shed on the man behind them — their publisher, art director and designer in one,
Tony Cederteg
. He is a renaissance man, though he would certainly shudder at being called that — he even frowns at "self-taught," not because it implies being at odds with the academia, but because it sounds like the teaching process is over. A Swedish expat in Paris, next year he will be celebrating Libraryman's 10th anniversary. It is safe to say that over these ten years his one-man publishing house has built its own kind of legacy, one made up not only of books, but also, as you'll finding out after reading, of an uncompromising way of doing things. It remains to be seen what Libraryman's teenage years will bring. In the meantime, its founder talks about things all book geeks love: special editions, rare book hunting (and its traps), and why books beat magazines.
How exactly is Studio Tony Cederteg different from Libraryman?
The distinction isn't complicated, they are both my practices, so I guess the foundation is somewhat the same. The design studio make assignments for clients, as well as all book designs for Libraryman and other publishers. It's a bit comical when I try to formulate each book for Libraryman differently on the studio's website. Libraryman is a platform for publishing photo books, which has been involving great risks, yet even though Libraryman doesn't exclude being a benefactor of funds, the studio is the most contributing factor to the rent being paid.
Does that mean that Libraryman doesn't have a financial purpose?
We have sold books successfully at Libraryman but our guideline has always been greater than that. If it were for the fact of only making money we would have published a whole lot of other work and feeling miserable in the end. We've managed a decent balance throughout the years, with all its highs and lows.
When it comes to photography work, I couldn't care less about the level of greatness or fame a photographer is on. It's a personal journey of balancing equal levels. Even if we foresee that a book won't be a financial success, we still have to publish it because of its great importance for the artist and for the legacy of Libraryman's catalogue. And for the small world to see. I just want to build something that I am proud of.
When we last spoke, you talked about running Libraryman a certain way for 9 years and then overriding it in a month. What kind of changes have you made?
It's just an internal structure that is reevaluated and put into work. It's a way of decreasing risks and giving back to the artists at the same time. It has always been problematic actually to find great artists to work with. The new structure is giving us the opportunity of embracing each project much more intimately in terms of time—to really strengthen the business side of Libraryman. Throughout the years we haven't always been able to take the time that we need in terms of promotion, marketing and distribution—it's never been secondary but it has been tough to have the right balance that we recently have found.
It seems that when you do find an artist that you want to publish, you almost always end up doing more than one book together. It has been the case with Viviane Sassen, Ola Rindal, Gerry Johansson, to name a few…
Gerry Johansson is one of the easiest people to work with and he finds that in me as well. It's just a great collaboration where we can focus on very special and interesting projects that are a little fragile. And then he can produce his other books at commercial publishers, such as Steidl and Mack.
Does it mean that artists come to you when they want more freedom?
Not necessarily. First of all no one comes to me because I don't take any submissions.
I noticed that is very clearly stated on the website.
That doesn't stop people from emailing me five times a day with submissions.
Do you look at them?
Of course I look at them. Even though I say I don't accept unsolicited submissions, I'm still human and I'm still interested. I may not get back to everyone, but that's the thing about the website—it clearly states that I don't have to. But of course I look at everything. I wish I had the time to review work and give feedback more thoroughly.
Let's get back to your relationships with artists for a second. We were talking about Gerry Johansson.
When Gerry and I started making books together I got in touch with him about a specific idea I had, and ever since he has initiated a lot of projects as well. As soon as you're in the sphere of Libraryman you can almost call it home. I always want to work long term with people and have long-lasting relationships. It's always of importance. If I reach out to someone to make a book, that means I have great interest in that person's work and that's not going to fade and go out of fashion.
Whenever you publish a book at Libraryman, it comes both as a standard and special edition. What's the reasoning behind it?
The reason for our special editions was the simple need to provide something even more limited than the book itself, and the book itself is quite limited already. It's a beautiful object with high collector's value. The margin on the special editions, which include a numbered first edition and a signed print in special packaging, is higher than the book itself. It is first of all an aesthetic choice but at the end of the day it's also a business choice, since it is a business and you have to cover costs.
I guess books are appealing to collectors because they have a much longer lifespan than, let's say, a niche magazine that also claims to be collectible, but in fact only lasts till the next issue comes out.
I always say to myself that Libraryman is a really boring publishing house but it will last a lifetime. I think the misconception of the business and the mistake that people make, at least according to my taste, is trying to find 'what's now' instead of longevity. I work with people of all ages, with diverse originality, and I wouldn't be able to tell them apart—they're all amazing and equally trying to be understood through the creativity. But I'm not chasing for something brief; the only thing I desire is beauty. And beauty can of course reveal itself in so many different ways. But I'm not looking at flashy things; I do not wish to scream. I have no appetite to fool the audience to buy something that I don't stand for. I just want to make calm, beautiful books, by letting the work speak for itself.
Since Libraryman is 9 years old, I think it's safe to say you've succeeded.
To put this in perspective, I have made three magazines, two issues of each. That just proves the fact that I should make books, because they're not something that is apparent or immediate, they don't always have to be current. And they can go in and out of fashion but their value is somewhat more personal.
With photo books, as soon as you release them, the value becomes much higher, both on a personal and financial level. If you publish literature, no matter if you're a newcomer or a famous writer, the edition will still be substantially larger than a photo book, since photo books has higher production costs and obviously a smaller target group, yet that is the pure beauty of the craft itself. Mainstream publishers of photo books still do limited print runs in comparison to literature, no matter if you're a big photographer or a new photographer, in the long run it will just be these selected individuals that hold this item.
Photo books can in fact reach insane prices once they go out of print. There's almost an auction market for them, but the most interesting thing to me is that there are people, and actually quite many of them, that will pay these prices for a book.
Yeah, and I'm one of them. When you first start getting interested in books, you're interested in quantity, but further down the line the only thing you think about is quality. And that makes you buy fewer but older, or bigger, or more expensive books. Increasing prices tend to be a bit ridiculous sometimes.
It takes a very discerning customer to know if that particular book is worth 1000 euros or not.
Yes, and some book vendors take advantage of that and market new and rare photo books in such a forceful manner, almost as a substitute for your own conscience, or as if educating a child for bad behaviour. People just want to buy into a lifestyle, whatever it might be at the time, into its social norm, if they can't figure it out themselves. They buy the idea of knowing more than they should without knowing it at all. Reference library: done. It's sad.
, established in 2008 by creative director
Tony Cederteg
, produces and publishes contemporary photo books and is based in Paris, France and Stockholm, Sweden. Working with a varied group of photographers and artists from around the world, Libraryman selects its collaborators with interest and sincerity and believes in establishing a relationship with everyone involved in a project's process.
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Niagara is transforming the hospital experience for tens of thousands of children.
Los Angeles, CA (PRWEB) November 29, 2016
Starlight Children's Foundation today announced that Niagara Bottling, through its philanthropic program Niagara Cares, has donated $1.4 million to the children's health charity in support of Starlight programs that brighten the lives of seriously ill children and their families.
The donation includes a matching gift challenge for up to 28,000 Starlight Brave Gowns in support of the charity's newly launched program to revolutionize children's hospital gowns. For every $25 Starlight Brave Gown donated at http://www.starlight.org, Niagara will match the donation on a one-for-one basis.
"We are incredibly grateful to the leadership and employees at Niagara for this truly outstanding gift and for continuing to support Starlight's mission of brightening the lives of seriously ill children and their families," said Starlight CEO Chris Helfrich. "Niagara is transforming the hospital experience for tens of thousands of children, and the company's matching gift challenge in support of our Starlight Brave Gowns program, in particular, will help ensure that more than 50,000 hospitalized children will receive a new, state-of-the-art gown."
Starlight Brave Gowns replace unattractive, uncomfortable and embarrassing children's hospital gowns with high-quality, comfortable and brightly colored gowns that help sick kids feel like superstars. Available in ten different designs for children ages 2 through 12, Starlight Brave Gowns are made of super soft, comfortable fabric and manufactured in the USA to meet strict hospital infection and safety protocols. They are specially designed for sick children and allow for easy access to ports and heart monitors as well as openings for IVs on both sleeves.
In total, the donation from Niagara will fund the placement of 28,000 Starlight Brave Gowns, 23 Starlight Fun Center mobile entertainment units and two beautifully redesigned hospital rooms called Starlight Sites in 23 communities across the US where the company has bottling plants and operations. Niagara will also fund a research project to help ensure the Starlight Brave Gowns program achieves maximum impact.
Starlight and Niagara launched the partnership in early 2015 with a $300,000 grant to deliver Starlight Fun Centers and other urgently needed items such as books, toys, games and other products to thousands of hospitalized children. In the past year, Niagara's support has expanded to include the building or renovation of ten Starlight Sites and the continued placement of nearly 100 Starlight Fun Centers in communities across the US.
About Starlight Children's Foundation
Starlight's mission is to brighten the lives of seriously ill children and their families by turning pain, fear and stress into laughter, fun and joy – because a sick kid is still a kid at heart. Founded in 1982 by Peter Samuelson and Emma Samms, Starlight has helped more than 60 million sick children in the US, Canada, Australia and the UK by providing programs that offer the best in entertainment, education and innovative technology. Steven Spielberg serves as the organization's Chairman Emeritus. Learn more at http://www.starlight.org and follow Starlight on Instagram and Facebook at /StarlightChildrensFoundation and on Twitter @StarlightUS.
About Niagara Bottling
Niagara Bottling, LLC has been family owned and operated since 1963. Headquartered in Ontario, CA, Niagara operates bottling facilities throughout the U.S. and Mexico. As a leading manufacturer of private brand bottled water in the U.S., Niagara Bottling works closely with some of the largest retailers, grocers, club and convenience stores throughout the country. Niagara produces a variety of beverages including bottled water, sparkling water, tea, sports drinks and vitamin enhanced waters. For more information, visit http://www.niagarawater.com.
About Niagara Cares
Niagara Cares, a philanthropic arm of Niagara Bottling, is committed to supporting local and national community initiatives serving children and families in need by engaging stakeholders and investing its resources. Niagara Cares efforts include national strategic partnerships, local community grants, employee engagement, volunteerism and the Andrew D. Peykoff, Sr. Scholarship Program. For more information, visit http://www.niagarawater.com/niagara-cares.


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Interested in interviewing an expert in public opinion research? Contact Eric Bailey, +1-847-686-2278, at AAPOR headquarters. Please include your name, news organization, contact information, a brief summary of your story and your deadline.
Tim Johnson, University of Illinois Chicago, AAPOR President
David Dutwin, SSRS, AAPOR Vice President
Roger Tourangeau, Westat, AAPOR Past President
Click here for a list of AAPOR Leadership.
Click here for a list of recent AAPOR Press Releases.


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Rambert presents Julie Cunningham & Company
Rambert presents a new site-specific performance from Rambert's inaugural Leverhulme Choreography Fellow, Julie Cunningham.
The performance is a delicate encounter between dancers and audience on the roof of the Royal Festival Hall. Cunningham's choreography suggests playful, imaginary situations appearing against the London skyline, creating intimacy and detailed attention amidst the expansive, spectacular backdrop.
Julie Cunningham is an acclaimed dancer who has worked with Merce Cunningham and Michael Clark, among others, and who has a growing reputation as an exciting new choreographic voice. She launched Julie Cunningham & Company with performances at the Barbican in April 2016, and has created new site-specific work for the V&A's REVEAL festival celebrating the opening of the museum's new Exhibition Road Quarter.
'A maker who is smart, assured and sharply engaged with the world around her'
'A choreographer who's definitely one to watch'


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Delhi Panthers chief demands ban on Max New York Life InsuranceDecember 7th, 2007 - 7:55 pm ICT by admin
New Delhi, Dec.7 (ANI): The President of the Delhi unit of the National Panthers Party, Sanjoy Sachdev, today demanded a ban of Max Newyork Life Insurance Company Limiteds operations in the country, as it had blatantly violated the norms and guidelines of the Insurance Regulatory and Development Authority regarding the mandatory 100 hours training for insurance agents.
Sachdev made this demand in a letter to Union Finance Minister P.Chidamabaram today. He claimed that the IRDA had received many complaints against the company but a nexus of officials led by a female Executive Director of the Authority is keeping mum on the serious issue.
Even where the company has approved training centres it is flouting the III syllabus and is teaching its products and marketing to the agents though it is forbidden, he added. Sachdev said that the continuation of such a law breaker multinational company is not in the national interest and hence all its activities should be banned otherwise, the workers of the Panthers Party shall be forced to launch an agitation against them nationwide, without giving any further notice. (ANI)
Tags: agitation, continuation, executive director, further notice, insurance, insurance agents, insurance regulatory and development authority, irda, life insurance company, marketing, multinational company, national interest, New Delhi, new york life insurance, newyork, nexus, norms, panthers party, syllabus, union finance minister


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A commission to produce a film summarising an EU-wide creative project that was led by the University for the Creative Arts. Visiting partner organisations across Europe to document interventions and interview collaborators, this film weaves together the intricate story of an innovative 3-year project exploring the concept of the 'visibility of the elder'.
More information on the Transparent Boundaries project can be found here.


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This week we return to the BBC series Black Mirror to discuss and review its second season. As with the first season, the show continues to deal with topics relating to technology. Specifically, these episodes examine our relationship with obsessive recording, death and technology and modern political candidates. As this conversation spans details from multiple episodes, we spoil plot details and recommend that you refrain from listening if you wish to watch the show first.
Talk to us on Twitter, Facebook and leave us a review on iTunes! We would love to hear your thoughts!


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Home > Web Development::Site Administration > WebSite Auditor Enterprise 4.33.8
WebSite Auditor Enterprise 4.33.8
An SEO tool that makes on-page SEO easy (optimizes site structure AND content!)Company: Link-Assistant.Com: SEO tools
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Category: Web Development::Site Administration
On-page SEO? Boring stuff! And what if you have a 300 page-long website? Intimidating, too. Well, NOT with WebSite Auditor! Bring it in and let the SEO tool do the work for you. Click "Scan" and let it produce an SEO audit report with your site's broken links, unresponsive pages, HTML errors, duplicate content, etc. listed. Not sure where to put keywords on your site and how many you need? WebSite Auditor will tell! A free version is available!
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Assistant Professor in Psychology
- Recruiter
- Location
- Gold Coast, Australia
- Posted
- 30 Aug 2017
- End of advertisement period
- 31 Oct 2017
- Ref
- Academic Discipline
- Social Sciences, Psychology
- Contract Type
- Fixed Term
- Hours
- Full Time
About the position
The Assistant Professor- Psychology will contribute to the Faculty's teaching and research profile, engage in clinical and other professional activities and provide administrative support within the Faculty. The primary focus of this position will be to deliver and undertake teaching and research in the field of psychology generally, but including cognitive neuroscience/neuropsychology.
About the person:
To be successful for the role the candidate must possess a strong teaching record along with evidence of experience in contemporary teaching methods such as; self-directed learning, small group learning, web-based learning and technology enhanced learning.
Possession of a PhD in Psychology and an active record of research and publications are also essential for success in this role. The successful candidate will have strong research expertise preferably, but not exclusively in several of the following areas; human-machine interactions, machine learning, verbal and non-verbal development, social and affective interaction, tactile/haptic perception, typical and a-typical ageing.
Salary details:
Bond University offers a vibrant campus with state-of-the-art facilities in a picturesque location, as well as a range of tangible benefits including (but not limited to): competitive remuneration, bus services to the door, available car parking, use of library, Career Development Services, corporate discount programs and a bulk-billing medical centre on-site
The salary will be negotiated and commensurate with skills and experience and be fully competitive in the Australian market. Salary packaging options are available
Further information:
Position related enquiries can be directed to Professor Irini Giannopulu at email@example.com or alternatively at (07) 559 52673
Application and submission details:
For further details regarding this appointment please reference the position description and selection criteria below:
Generic Position Descriptor
Assistant Professor B
Selection Criteria
Assistant Professor Psychology
Applications should include the following supporting documents:
- A cover letter including the position title, where you saw this role being advertised and the position reference number #FSD1781
- A curriculum vitae which includes the names and contact details of three referees;
- A statement addressing each of the selection criteria as outlined in the position description.
Completed applications should be sent to:
Peta Dawson/Kayleigh Corlett
Short listed applicants without work rights will need to demonstrate they can meet the requirements for obtaining a valid Australian work visa.
Conditions of employment for this position are offered under a Bond Employment Contract (BEC)
Bond University is an equal opportunity employer.


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Hi I'm Kuzcopia.
I don't think there's much relevance to my own backstory. I love writing, I write for a couple of webcomics, you can find out about that on the links section. I really felt like just putting up these stories I've been writing so that's what this is about.
I have the dream I'll one day be able to write for a living, so if you like what you I do, please consider supporting that effort.
And all however, I mainly hope you have a good time and enjoy the story. If so, I'd always love to hear from you.
Thank you for reading!


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A man who was twice convicted of stalking actress Mila Kunis is now the subject of a manhunt, after he escaped from a Pomona, California mental health facility over the weekend.
The Los Angeles Times reports Stuart Lynn Dunn, 30, was confined to Olive Vista Behavioral Health Center under the supervision of the Los Angeles County Probation Department after he pleaded no contest to a felony count of stalking Kunis in January of 2013.
Los Angeles County Sheriff's Lt. Martin Rodriguez told the paper Dunn walked out of the secure facility at about 8 p.m. Saturday, and Kunis has been notified.
Dunn was arrested on suspicion of stalking Kunis in February 2012, and ordered to stay away from her for three years after he pleaded no contest to a misdemeanor count of unauthorized entry of a dwelling, per the Times.
Three months later, in May 2012, police arrested him after he waited for Kunis in the parking lot of her gym for the third consecutive day.
The 30-year-old was also charged following an incident in January of 2012 after he made repeated phone calls seeking Kunis' personal information and then broke into and lived in a vacant home owned by the 31-year-old new mother.
The Olive Vista Behavioral Health Center is located about 30 miles east of Los Angeles.


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The train pulled in to Ulaanbaatar bang on time, to the second, (13:50) how that's possible I don't know, but it worked. All through that morning since we had woken from our comfortable nights sleep, we had noticed that the temperature had dropped considerably outside so we were starting to get a bit cold. The clothes we have left if our backpacks are quite unsuitable for anything lower than about 21 degrees celcius and so with plenty of layers on we entered into this new somewhat ugly -from first impressions- city. Through the agency which we had booked the train tickets with in Beijing, we had a free transfer from the station and one night accommodation booked at the very comfortable 'Miami' hotel. We didn't have much time to get comfortable though as we had a 4pm appointment with 'Ger to Ger' a Community based nomadic travel agency based somewhere in the city, and after quick showers we headed off looking for the office. Mongolia uses the Cyrillic alphabet similar to that of Russia but the way the streets were named left us baffled, however once we'd found the 'State Department Store' (and ran in to buy some warmer clothes) we navigated the streets easily to the appointment.
After the meeting we were pretty tired but quite excited after learning what the trip entailed, (we had booked over the internet a month or so earlier but not had much chance to look into it in great detail) and learning some basic language and customery rituals. We met up for a goodbye drink with our excellent cabin buddies Peter and Tanya before getting a very good nights sleep. We were to be at the bus station at 7.30am the next morning to catch a local bus out westwards to the Bulgan province.
The bus station was bustling with local people who wore the most amazing clothes, long brightly coloured silk overcoats with large patterns and cowboy hats! The bus ride was pretty comfortable too, even during the bit where we had to leave the road (as it was being repaired) and travel in the field next to it for about half an hour. Apart from us two, we were to be joined by an American couple, Jeff and Maggie who were on their honeymoon. From our bus stop we were transferred into a minibus and left the road completely, driving at high speed through dirt tracks running through endless, fenceless fields. The trip entailed us staying for three nights with three different nomadic families and we were to travel by horse between each family after staying the night. Our first stop was with a young family who were just so friendly and nice, they had two adorable children who we played with outside our very cool 'Ger'. The family had many horses, goats and cows and we sat with them for a while talking (through the use of books which we had with English and Mongolian in it) it was polite to ask questions like "Are you having a good summer?" or "Are your goats fat?" which they nodded to enthusiastically. In the middle of the Ger was a stove which we stoked with dried horse (or cow or goat) dung and began to ferment some horse milk to make vodka, while that was brewing we headed out for a short ride on the horses. The scenery was just incredible, an enourmous blue sky which seemed to go on forever hung high above us constarsting with the rich green of the fields and m0untains in the distance, animals grazed all around us, we passed through a small stream and headed up the hill to an old statue for a great view of the surroundings. It was so, so quiet. We just stood there in silence saying "amazing" every two minutes. Returning from the ride, our backsides already staring to ache from the uncomfortable and notorious 'Mongolian (wooden) saddle. We gingerly sat down to enjoy the vodka and some very bizarre looking food, sort of dried cheese or something with some cream. Some of it was quite good. Before dark we helped to round up the goats for milking (Silke did a good job) before letting them all loose again, then they let the dogs loose so that they could protect the animals from wolves in the night, the goats seemed to like headbutting our Ger as we dozed off to sleep.
We slept so well, even though the two of us were cramped onto a small single bed, all of that fresh air was just so good. Sadly we had to leave our first family and we set off towards Ger number two, a three hour ride away. By now it was boiling hot and the amazing landscape became drier and more desert like. Upon reaching them, we went through the same ritual as meeting the first family "Are your goats fat etc?" before heading off into the huge sand dunes that we now found ourselves by. By now we were all suffering badly from the saddles and we were glad it wasn't far. Once there we picked berries from the trees for the family. That night after some excellent goulash we kicked a football around and watched a horse being milked, and enjoyed another superb sunset before sleeping well again.
The next day we dreaded how far we would have to ride, but it was no more than an hour, we did quite a bit of galloping which helped – that was amazing, racing through those fields, it was real freedom! The final family were older again and lived in a hut rather than a Ger they had two older children who studied so communicating with them was a little easier. We were to go out for a walk to a lake but this time not by horse (Yes!), but by "Machine". The "Machine" was an old blue van which we sat in the back of as we trundled throught he fields up to their 'winter camp' in the hills, and from there we embarked on a good ramble for a few hours, enjoying the views, the local plants etc and even encounterd a snake, it slithered off though without any trouble! The lake was tiny and not really the highlight of the walk, the bizarre temples in the middle of nowhere were the coolest part. On our return to winter camp, the "Machine" we were told was broken, so we had to walk back, that was enjoyable too though as the sun began to set, giving the whole landscape a beautiful blue and pink shade as our shadows grew longer behind us.
Next morning after breakfast we were picked up by two men in a 4×4, and after a customery shot of vodka, we left heading for the centre point of the whole of Mongolia. Not long after leaving the house they stopped the car turned around to face us and opened a can of beer with big grins on their faces handing us plastic cups, we decided it was better if we drank then they would drink less, as one of them was driving us!
Finally after a great visit to the monument and the centre of Mongolia, a few beers, and a taxi ride back to Ulaanbaatar (the bus was full) we were back to real life, we were exhausted but had to change hotels as the 'Miami' included in our package was way too expensive for us, so we moved to the very homely Golden Gobi hotel where we would spend the next two nights. Our last day in UB we spent wandering around the suprisingly pleasant town centre looking at a few museums and Chengis Khan momuments before relaxing in the warm summer afternoon sunshine with a cold beer to reflect on our adventure through the wilderness. What a life they lead, just so simple, hard work, but simple family life, out there in the middle of nowhere with all of their animals, amazing.
The following day, we gathered some supplies and headed to the railway station to catch our train to Moscow. When the train pulled in we were happy to find Jens, a friendly sensible 20 year old Danish lad in our carriage and the 4th berth empty, so we had plenty of room to relax, we were also happy to find our 'provodnitse' or stewardess for the trip was a fiery bright red-haired woman who was very stern yet frinedly. We were happy, and looked forward to 4 days of rest and relaxation.
The 4 days passed much quicker than we imagined. The shorter than expected, but rutheless security checks at the Russian border, the huge crystal clear water of Lake Baikal, the fun of jumping on and off the train at random stations to buy supplies, the cheerful trolley lady from the restaurant car, then endless villages and rows of trees in the Russian countryside, the reading and swapping of books and stories with Jens, the chess games, the vodka, not to mention the drunk russians who got on in Omsk all added up to a very pleasant and quite unforgettable journey. The time was also good just to sit, look out of the window and reflect on what has been a quite unforgettable year, a journey like no other that will stay with us for the rest of our lives, it was also a good opportunity to prepare ourselves for reality, going back to work and real life, and look forward to meeting friends and family again.
In Moscow, the smoke from the fires had lifted so we had a really nice day for our arrival. The hostel we were at was nice and we arrived just in time for their 'Summer party' to which we were all invited. It was a good laugh and provided me with the perfect opportunity to get rid of my extra Mongolian money, swapping it for Euros with a couple of Dutch dentists heading in the opposite direction. Next morning we were out early amongst the reformed smoke to take a city tour, which pretty much showed us all we had wanted to see of Moscow, but we still had a few more days there so took our time in wandering this great, huge city. It' fine architecture, amazing underground metro system, the kremlin, St. Basils cathedral, which really does make you feel like you are in a fairytale (one to come back to in winter when it's covered in snow).
Following our pleasant stay in Moscow, we left by train on the 17th August, making our way north to Riga (Latvia) on yet another night train. One day and one night was enough time to enjoy the kind of quiet toy town that is Riga, lots of stunning architecture, beautiful people, cafes and restaurants and some pretty good shops too. We eagerly disgarded some of our more 'well travelled' clothing (rags) for some new stuff – oh the joy of shopping! Next morning (19th) we headed out from Riga in the rain by bus to Vilnius (Lithuania) the lush green farming land and quaint wooden huts looking more and more like Germany and home. Vilnius is also a very pleasant town where we decided to indulge in some good food and wine in a nice restaurant, this was after all to be our last night out on the road. Our final resting place was a really good hostel with just six clean double rooms and breakfast (in bed) included. It felt like a fitting finale to a brilliant year.
From midday on the 20th August until 5pm on Saturday the 21st August 2010 we took a number of trains, travelling first from Vilnius to Warsaw in Poland, then a night train from Poland to some really unpronouncable town from where we crossed the border on a packed two carriage train into Germany. From there it was a series of short distance trains of which Silke had worked out all the timetables amazingly so that we never had to wait for more than two minutes before the connecting train. And then as if by magic "Nachster halt Günzburg" (next stop Günzburg) was announced. Ironically we hadn't noticed how close we actually were and so had to scramble to get off the train with all our bags – we'd never missed a stop or a train, bus or plane up to that point so that would have been very embarassing.
There on the platform waiting to greet us was Franz and Mary (Silkes parents) it was great to see them again, happily we rode the short journey from the station back to their home where we are now. It feels odd to be static, but it has been nice to get rested and prepare for our 'real lives' again, we've just sat around, read a lot, met with various friends and family members to begin re-telling our adventures, and we've eaten a lot too – I've already put back on half of what weight I'd lost. Tomorrow we fly home to England, miraculously we seem to have already found ourselves a nice fully furnished flat in a nice part of town and our jobs will be waiting for us. The next chapter of our lives is about to begin.
And so there it is, the end of our journey around the world, 367 days, 23 countries and numerous (I will calculate one day) kilometers travelled. We've seen so much, learnt so much, met so many people and had such a great time. Now I feel we should say something profound but at the moment that escapes me, except maybe to say that "The world is a fine place full of so much beauty and mystery, when you travel things happen on a day to day basis that never fail to excite or amaze, you feel alive. This world IS a wonderful place (the news only talks of the bad stuff) and life is very short, you should see it for yourself".
Love and peace, Mike and Silke.
Ps, Thanks so very much to everyone whom we have met on this journey, to friends, random strangers, and especially those who've let us stay with them – Uncle Ian and Naomi, Kier Jade Theo and Xavier, Anna and Steve, Bryan and Tara.


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Project Description
Malaga: Automobile & Fashion Museum Excursion
Friday 20 October 2017
Contact: Leigh Beaton
Email: firstname.lastname@example.com
We will view the private collection of Portuguese car enthusiast Joao Magalhaes – around 90 classic cars including a black Rolls-Royce customised with Swarowski crystals and a car converted from a small aeroplane etc plus displays of haute couture fashion & hats and art housed in one of Malaga's most architecturally stunning buildings – the old tobacco factory – a surprising and wonderful museum.
- Entrance fee: 8€ reduced 6€ (payable in the museum)
- For more information about the museum click here
- To book: send email to email@example.com for the attention of Leigh Beaton
The Russian State Museum is in the same building so a visit to this museum is also possible. Two temporary exhibitions feature 'Alexéi and Andreas Jawlensky: Colour Adventure' and 'Revolutionary Posters'.
- Entrance Fees: Temporary exhibitions: 4€ reduced 2.50€
Permanent exhibition: 6€ reduced 3.50€
Permanent + Temporary: 8€ reduced 4€